Come out of the shade
by celestialscribe
Summary: Inspired by the song of the same title by The Perishers. Remus and Sirius realise that they are slipping into something that's more than friendship. Includes fluff and some hot library kisses.


Sirius sighed, his breath skirting the piece of parchment upon which his head was pressed out of the sheer boredom and tiredness that accompanied afternoons in the library. He'd given up reading long ago, proceeding to pass notes to James who was sat beside him whilst ignoring the eager eyes of Peter who was no doubt itching to know what they were conversing about. A prank? Firewhiskey atop the Astronomy Tower that evening? In truth, it was little more than talk of dinner and when they'd be allowed to escape, but Peter probably would have jumped at the opportunity of those options too.

Only James had started ignoring him. James at least attempted to study whereas Sirius had surrendered to his lack of concentration altogether, almost from the moment he first opened his textbook. Much like James, Peter had buried his head in a book, but his expression was vacant as if half asleep. And then there was Remus.

Remus Lupin, the boy who actually enjoyed studying, the boy who could look upon the printed word with fondness even after hours of studying. Not always were his eyes moving, but at this precise moment they ran swiftly across the page, each word absorbed within an instant of looking at them. As he read, he worried at his bottom lip, only the slightest crease upon his brow indicating that his concentration was not all that it seemed. Normally this finer detail would have escaped the notice of another. But Sirius had spent many an hour tracing the lines of Remus' face, searching for answers that he never seemed to find. Sirius noticed, because Sirius looked.

He wasn't entirely sure how long his eyes had lingered on the boy opposite him, but it must have been longer than intended, for those hazel eyes soon found his . An eyebrow raised, Remus leant back in his chair, resting the book against the edge of the table and giving the smallest clear of his throat. Sirius acted accordingly, lifting his head from where it rested on the desk and rubbing the spot on his temple which had been pressed against the hard wood.

There was one question in particular that Sirius yearned for an answer to, one that had been burning on his mind for too long already. James had always been his best friend. Though the Marauders were a pack, he and James were like brothers. And yet Remus was different. Not like a brother. Not even in the slightest. Sirius couldn't possibly spend as many hours studying the intricacies of a boy, feeling the compulsion to grin like an idiot every time he caught a glimpse of something others didn't seem to notice, and call that boy a brother. Sirius didn't know what that made Remus. He didn't know what that made him.

Sometimes it felt like more than friendship. Sometimes, Remus caught him off guard in a mutual exchange of attentiveness and surprise. Sirius would be on the brink of blowing up, fuming after a confrontation with Regulus, a cruel reminder of his situation; he was alone, he was homeless, and he was penniless. Friends was all he had. In times like these, Sirius was cruel. He poked fun at Remus for being who he was, for being less overtly masculine and instead more open to feeling. It was ridiculous given how much he admired the werewolf. But it was the reaction that Sirius fought for, some confirmation that he hadn't gotten Remus wrong and that it meant something. That _he_ meant something.

Remus always put up with him. He even went one further; when Sirius crawled into his bed in the late hours of the night, Remus didn't tell him to bugger off, instead enclosing him in arms that Sirius had never thought he'd find so comforting. That embrace alone was enough to break him entirely, and yet it chased away the frustration that had been threatening to consume him. It signified that Remus knew what Sirius had never cared to admit. The fact that he was able to soothe it was wholly unique, distinct and distinctly Remus.

Somewhere in his train of thought, Sirius' eyes had wondered back to the boy opposite him. Now Remus' eyes most certainly weren't moving. Instead, he stared at the page as if that act alone was difficult enough, exhausting him of all his energy.

_Just friends_, Sirius reminded himself.

Yet Remus was a friend who made everything more bearable. On one hand Sirius welcomed the distraction of the other boy; he spent far more time worrying about Remus than he ever did himself. Worrying about Remus was easy, but so was protecting him. On the other, Remus was Remus. Defining him was like defining the sun. No one gave the sun the credit it deserved. It rose each and every day without fail, so vital to the working of the world, yet it was forever taken for granted. Sirius supposed there was poetry about this somewhere, but he'd never been one for the romantics of words. That was Remus' business.

Sirius lifted his quill, hoping to give the impression that he was at least trying to work so as to distract from the fact that he couldn't keep his eyes off the boy in front of him. As he did, Remus set his book down, casting one quick glance to his fellow Marauders before getting to his feet and moving between the shelves.

Remus did this often. He actually _used_ the library. He sought out books from sections of the library that Sirius only knew existed because of him. But Sirius also knew the library was his escape. He knew this because he'd escaped here with him all too many times. It wasn't always easy to catch Remus alone. The library was one of the few places in which he could do that.

Remus couldn't bear it. Sirius couldn't keep his eyes off him or he simply chose _not_ to, but it was glaringly obvious and each moment he refused to look away it became that much more difficult for Remus to stem the sense of release that washed over him as a result. It was a contradiction, a cruel one at that. Everything about Sirius should have made him feel uneasy. He was clever, but dangerously so. Mischief blazed in the stormy depths of his eyes like fiendfyre. Not to mention the _way _he looked at Remus, as if he couldn't get enough. The way he tempted Remus to lock eyes with his, for only then was Remus forced to remember that which he strove to forget in the company of the other Marauders.

He felt betrayed, let down by his very self, too pleased to have Sirius' full attention than was truthfully good for him. As soon as he'd slipped between the shelves that spanned across the library floor, a clumsy smile crept across his lips. It didn't bode well.

_Just friends_, Remus reminded himself, cursing under his breath and running an agitated hand through his brown locks. As he paced the aisle, he ran a finger along the binds of the books, seemingly searching for one book in particular but with the amount of attention he'd reserved for the task at hand he was sure to miss it.

Sirius Black. Just a friend. A best friend perhaps, but a friend none the less.

Only he knew it wasn't true. Friends didn't sneak into your bed at night seeking comfort, nor did they let you wrap your arms around them as if the mere act of comforting them was something you needed almost equally. Did they?

But when it came to Remus, Sirius had always pushed the boundaries of friendship, initiating the Marauders' decision to become animagi, spending each and every full moon with the werewolf even if the cost was too dear for either of them to bear, or stealing into the Hospital Wing after hours just to check up on him when there was nought he could do regardless, only to fall asleep in the bed beside him. Friends might go out of their way to heal the watercolour of bruises and array of cuts that embellished your flesh after the full moon, but they didn't proceed to plant concerned kisses atop your head as if it pained them almost as much as it did you. Perhaps even more so; after all, Remus was accustomed to pain of that particular nature whereas Sirius most certainly wasn't.

And yet if this wasn't friendship - friendship in its purest, most unadulterated form - then Remus almost didn't want to know what it was. More than friendship. What did that even mean? Love? Remus wasn't _allowed_ to love. He wasn't allowed to _be_ loved, because never would it mean anything. Never could it lead anywhere. He was a werewolf. That might be all fun and games whilst they were at Hogwarts but he was under no illusions about what that really meant. There was a reason werewolves lived outside of wizarding society, in a life of bitter segregation. In the end of the day, it was _all_ he was.

_Just friends_.

And yet Remus couldn't remember feeling this way before. Nothing mattered; his condition didn't matter, or it was simply outweighed by a yearning to be with Sirius despite it. Sirius had had his chance to back down. Remus had allowed him ample time to return to what they were. Just friends? Their time as friends was up.

Remus knew what that made him. Gay? He cringed at the word. A gay werewolf. But he was also a fool. He was a fool to think it was anything other than friendship. It would only come back to bite him in the arse eventually. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that it was worth it and that Sirius was worth it. Of course this was all hypothetical. From the moment Sirius had decided that he mattered to him, Remus didn't stand a chance. Reason was drowned out amidst a wave of softly spoken words and that obnoxious grin that rendered any and every effort to stave off its effects futile.

Remus wasn't reckless. He wasn't irresponsible. He couldn't be, given what he was. Ever since he could read, he'd buried himself in books on his condition, full moon charts, even books on Wizarding law so that he understood precisely what his affliction would cost him. He was careful. And yet this was utterly, horrifically, careless. That's what made it so troubling.

_Sirius Black_. Even the name provoked a feeling of elation, though admittedly that name had taken on a whole new meaning as of late. Remus' footsteps came to a slow, stopping at the far end of the shelf having seemingly reached the desired book. As he lifted an arm to pry the book from its shelf, he heard the shuffle of footsteps behind him. Before he had a chance to turn around, Sirius took a step and closed the space between them, placing arms about his waist as he had countless times before.

Countless times before and yet they still managed to render Remus utterly unguarded against them. The pressure, so familiar now and yet only more welcome as whatever 'this' was developed, unfolding in a glorious series of stolen embraces whenever they found themselves free from the presence of the other Marauders.

_Just friends_, Remus reminded himself as he eased back into him.

Yet Sirius was undeniably more than a friend to Remus, not only through his actions but through exactly what he provided, what only he provided. Only it cost Remus to admit it and so he didn't. Instead, he shifted in Sirius' arms until he was facing him, greeted with a tender smile, the kind that only provoked Remus into unravelling before him, drawing Remus into the warmth that was quickling coming to define this particular Marauder.

A warming smile, one that signified that Sirius wasn't afraid. Remus envied him for it. Remus envied him for being able to do this without even a sliver of guilt or doubt or fear. But Sirius had never shied from anything. Confrontation, no matter what the nature of it, came easily to the raven-haired boy, vastly easier than thinking something through before acting on it. Especially this. Had Sirius thought for even a second about what he'd been doing, no doubt he wouldn't be doing it. Or so Remus thought.

Sirius smiled, and Remus could have sworn he was attempting to lure him out of his shell, out of the shade in which he so comfortably dwelt, a cruel knowing expression playing on his handsome features. It was nigh on impossible to resist. Remus' surrender was pure inevitability, as predictable as the sun rising in the east as it did each morning without fail. Sirius smiled that smile that warmed Remus to the very core until he lost all resolve. Remus couldn't remember how they'd gotten there, but his arms were draped across Sirius' shoulders, his back pressed against the shelf as lips sought out those of the other boy.

_Just friends_, he repeated inwardly as he caught Sirius' lips with his, aching for a taste of the friend in question.

Sirius only pressed him harder against the shelf, ignoring the involuntary groan that escaped Remus' lips for there wasn't even a hint of discomfort about it. Sirius' warmth, the pressure of his hips, the thrum of the other boy's heart against his chest, all coupled with the sheer fact that they were still in the library and Remus abhorred misconduct in a place as sacred as this; it was enough to incite a want in Remus that could only be stemmed by tightening his grip around Sirius, a hand moving until it rested on the nape of his neck so as to draw him closer.

That smile. Remus knew in that instant that he was helpless without it, just as he was helpless without Sirius himself. Never could he deny that the other Marauders made life more bearable, to the extent that he'd even come to depend on them to a certain degree. He loathed it, fully aware that he'd be a fool to think his days weren't numbered, that this actually had permanence. He had the scars to remind him of that. Only this was more than that, and it was bloody terrifying. Or at least it should have been. But that ruddy smile, the one that was forever imprinted on his mind amidst memories of lips pressed against his neck, the tender patch of skin about his collar that Sirius was now teasing with his tongue, his warm breath skirting across scarred flesh..

With each passing second coherent thought was lost to him. _Fear _was lost to him. Sirius could tell Remus was no longer afraid, reduced to something as reckless as himself. They'd regret it, a small voice warned him from the back of his head as he traced Remus' jaw with hungry lips. But just friends, or love, Sirius was far from certain but it made little difference regardless. Remus breathed his name and any lingering shred of hesitation escaped him. Sirius moved to rest his forehead against Remus', closing his eyes against their surroundings which were all but lost to him anyway. Inhaling the sweet scent of his friend, of _Remus_, Sirius attempted to still whatever had stirred within him.

"Sirius," Remus repeated, recovering some of his former resilience. Sirius opened his eyes to find Remus' gaze reaching into his, searching for the answer that would only verify what he hadn't dared to believe before now. Sirius nodded, and this time it was Remus' turn to smile. Lips curving out of sheer inability to stifle the relief, Remus tried to hide it by easing into another kiss, only then a sudden cough from their left wrenched them from the warm, tender embrace into which they'd so gloriously stumbled.

"Ahem."

Sirius immediately jumped back whilst Remus straightened out, knocking the shelf in the process so that a book even toppled to the floor and pages crumpled from the impact. Both Marauders swore under their breath as they turned irritated, panicked expressions towards the intruder.

"Excuse me, boys," Lily said simply. An eyebrow raised, she attempted to avert her green eyes anywhere but on the scene before her. Yet there was a hint of amusement tugging at her delicate features as Remus and Sirius stepped aside to allow her passage. She padded past, plucking a book from the shelf then cast a few last words over her shoulder before departing. "I'd suggest you try the Divination section next time. It's a very wooly subject; you won't find many visitors there."

Once Lily was gone, Remus was the first to break. A laugh was the last thing Sirius expected but it escaped Remus' lips with splended ease, splitting the silence that surrounded them. And Sirius had his answer. He didn't dare close the space between them again, but he wanted to. _Merlin_, did he want to. Instead he returned to studying the features of the boy he had unmistakably fallen in love with without even knowing it. For it might have escaped Remus' notice, but Sirius was just as helpless without him. Sirius didn't need to question it anymore, realising that it had already begun, only they'd been too caught up in it to notice.

A smile still stretched across Remus' lips, so unguarded and effortless that Sirius couldn't help but mirror it. He took hold of Sirius' hand and pulled him close enough that he could kiss him should he so wish. But he didn't. Sirius could feel the heat of his breath as he exhaled, but Remus still didn't kiss him. Instead, he straightened Sirius' robes, eyes soaking in the appearance of the other boy with just as much intrigue as he was faced with back at their table.

"So it's the divination section next time. Agreed?"

Emboldened by the idea of a 'next time' and by the sheer fact that this was very quickly becoming routine, Sirius' lips stretched into a smirk.

"If you can wait that long."

It was a challenge. It was teasing. It was _safe_. Remus narrowed his eyes as if contemplating it but in truth there was nothing to contemplate. His resistance had shattered with the simple nod that had meant everything, such a slight movement of his head which conveyed infinitely more than he could put into words.

Remus' eyes lingered on Sirius; in all truth, he was struggling to tear them away. He struggled through a whole chapter of _Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration_ just as he struggled to summarise what he'd read on parchment. It was a good hour before Remus caved. Sirius slipped from the chair upon which he'd been slumped, that obnoxious smirk still playing at his lips. Remus' eyes followed his movements as he departed, but he left it a good few minutes before following suit, just for good measure. By the time he reached Sirius, finding him perusing through the books in an attempt at looking busy, Remus cared little for their surroundings, closing the space between them in one swift step as he brought lips crashing against Sirius'.

Both Remus and Sirius were pleased to discover that Lily knew the library well.


End file.
